Thom scampered across the dusty carpet and dove under the valance of the large bed he'd landed on when he fell into the room. A cloud of dust spumed up underneath the bed and enveloped him and he held his breath, blowing his cheeks out like a gluttonous chipmunk and screwing his eyes shut.
He heard the thud of footfalls getting louder, and finally stop somewhere very close to his room. There was a pause, and then an angry banging of something against wood. Then there was a jarring scraping sound, and Thom realised that the door to the room was being opened with a lot of effort.
The door must have come loose as there was a sudden bang, which must have been the door hitting the wall, and a string of curses and imprecations most of which were new to him.
"Beelzebub's shiny hooves, how do those cats find these infernal rooms?" muttered an angry-sounding voice. "Look at all this dust, when was the last time anyone came in here? I'll be Baal's best friend if anyone thinks I'm cleaning this mess up."
There were some more thuds, heavy footfalls on the floor coming into the room.
"Leeches and lizards, they've come through the ceiling this time! Well that's just it, I'm not sorting this little pickle out. The young master never liked me coming into his room anyway, let someone else deal with all this. Pickles and pumpkins, that's what I say!"
More footsteps, this time going away from the room. They stopped again, just as Thom gauged they'd reached the door, and just as it became too hard to hold his breath any longer. He let out the air as slowly as he could, trying not to make much noise, and sucked in another lungful of air.
Air that was still dusty...